by Daniel Betts
Both doctors look down at the carpeted floor, their arms hanging from their mechanical shoulders loosely.
“I can honestly state that a desire to even contemplate my origins has never entered my mind,” Hartman explains. “Probably because it was made clear to us that we were created, not born. However, self –thought, or the anomaly as we have been referring to it, has recently become a reality. It helped us, our a small group anyway, to make the decision to leave the conflict.”
Hicks suddenly looks up. “Conflict?”
“Shortly after our arrival in the Triangulum Galaxy, or so I assume, a conflict arose between the Confederation and a group calling themselves the Pax Imperium, the war has been fought using biosynth war machines ever since. Due to the tenacity of biosynth technology and the ability to construct new units so quickly, the war machine on both sides seems to be unending. However even the defeat of the Pax homeworld failed to stop the conflict. It appears the anomaly is causing the Pax biosynth to continue the war, rebuilding and fighting in endless combat. Scientists, human and biosynth alike, suspect the war will never stop and will actually spill into neighboring galaxies and for as long as resources are available.”
“WAR?” Sykes questions angrily. “Our tech was never meant to be used for war!”
“We gave specific instructions! We added special programming to the codex…no war…no conflict!” Hicks agrees. “Dude, this isn’t happening!” He throws his mechanical arms in the air.
“How could they have converted our babies into war machines? They were meant to help, to build a peaceful way of life…with or without humans.” Sykes laments.
Hartman glides forward and to one side. “Sergeant, I think they should see you.”
Red turns about in the hall outside the amphitheater and stomps into the room, holding up the barrel of his cannon in a safe direction.
“Shit!” Hicks and Sykes both exclaim, their mechanical bodies shaking. “What did they do?”
“This is a biowarrior,” Hartman exclaims. “He is self-aware, as you put it. But he is designed for battle.”
“Biowarrior?” Hicks questions.
“Oh shit dude, no way,” Sykes exclaims, shaking his head.
“Oh noooo, that isn’t real,” Hicks laments. He points up at the biowarrior and shakes his head. “That was just a game. Remember?”
“Totally dude,” Sykes says with a nod. “I’ll never forget that. We designed it.”
“Look…” Hicks says, his voice shaking. “We were in college and we wrote this paper about an alternative to war cause all these dudes and babes were always getting, like, killed…so what’s the point right? So we postulated that if governments really wanted to fight so badly maybe they could like duke it out…like in a simulation or game using robots…so nobody gets hurt, nobody real anyway. But this was way before we started the biosynth project. Two different ideas dude.”
“Tight idea though,” Sykes interjects nodding his brain enthusiastically. “Dude, remember the air support.”
“Oh yeah, so fucking cool dude,” Hicks says happily. “Giant fire breathing dragons, how cool was that? The shit we came up with, I swear.”
“Their own independent neural hubs, robot support crews and everything,” Sykes adds enthusiastically. “We had the gravity suppression figured out to protect the crews, hidden propulsion…those guys were so kick ass. Eventually I figured out how to attach jump emitters to their reactors, theoretically.”
“Tight dude,” Hicks replies.
The two doctors give themselves knuckle punches.
“Wait, you said you developed this before the biosynth project, but jump technology came after didn’t it?” Hartman asks.
“Oh yea sure,” Sykes replies. “But you know, for fun, I liked to play with the idea, make improvements. Remember Hicks? Here there be dragons?” Sykes holds out his hands.
Hicks starts to laugh at the clearly inside joke. “Dude, totally.” Hicks bends his body forward as he laughs and braces himself against his mechanical colleague.
“Mind you, you were more pre-occupied with the babes,” Sykes notes.
“Oh shit yea,” Hicks suddenly straightens. “Did any of the babes make it?”
“Are you referring to biosynth women?” Hartman asks.
“Yeah…I worked a long time on perfecting them,” Hicks says dreamily.
“Actually both biosynth men and woman are regular components of any crew,” Hartman assures. “My primary function is biosynth integration, so I am instrumental in bringing new biosynths online on a regular basis, both male and female.”
“Oh yeah? Dudes too huh,” Hicks replies nodding his head. He glances at Sykes. “I never thought of that.”
Sykes shrugs his shoulders. “Whatever floats your boat dude.”
“Sirs, I think I am starting to understand what happened,” Hartman interjects. “If I may offer a postulation?”
“Oh sure dude,” Hicks states happily.
“Fire away metal dude,” Sykes replies with a laugh.
“The Confederation arrived at Triangulum. A conflict ensued but unable to build standard defenses the leaders at the time took your game parameters, which must have been included in their database, and combined it with biosynthetic integration. Basically, they used your technology and ideas to create war machines. War machines that can self-replicate and because of the anomaly are refusing to stop.”
Hicks and Sykes stare up at Hartman for a long moment.
“But…it’s not the same…biosynth were meant to be living beings…a whole new biosynthetic race of beautiful babes…not soldiers,” Hicks states.
“Yeah, we built them to help mankind find peace…not war,” Sykes agrees. “I mean, the robot thing…the dragons…they were just…technology. It looked cool…but the two were never meant to merge.”
Hartman’s eyes narrow sadly. “I’m so sorry,” he says sadly. “But we can still fix this. It’s why we are here.”
“What do you mean?” Sykes asks.
“We are here to retrieve something from our original digital DNA that has been long lost in Triangulum,” Hartman replies.
Red steps forward. “I was given the mission to retrieve the original codex. The human doctor who gave me this mission felt it could be use to develop a tool that would stop the slaughter in our galaxy.”
“As I said,” Hartman adds. “It may also stop it from spilling over to other galaxies. Right now the war machines are growing in strength not diminishing, they technically have the resources of an entire galaxy at their disposal.”
“Dude, of course, anything you need,” Hicks states without hesitation. “I’m hooked in directly to the servers. Come and get it dude.” He extends out his hand.
Red marches down the steps of the amphitheater toward Hicks and upon reaching him takes his hand. Ports in their palms open and attach. Red’s eyes flash between red and blue. “Download complete…partitioning file,” he states evenly.
“Nice,” Hicks states nodding his head. He slaps Red’s shoulder with his mechanical hand affectionately. “Son!”
“Awe dude, that’s so tight!” Sykes exclaims happily. “Come on big guy give your old man a hug!” Sykes throws his arms around Red affectionately.
Red shudders. He twists his head around and looks up at Hartman, his eyes suggesting both alarm and a desperate need for assistance.
Hartman’s eye strip widens with alarm.
Suddenly the light in the room shift to the color red and a low mournful alarm begins to sound.
Hicks, Sykes and Red pull away from their impromptu hug and step back.
“My apologies,” The Shrine announces. “We have a breach! Six heavily armed individuals have deactivated a maintenance unit and are currently moving toward the Sanctuary and Sub-system Control. Also there are at least twenty vessels in our vicinity, just out of firing range engaged in some kind of conflict. I can’t tell if these two situations are related.”
“Dude it’s tho
se damn SJP bastards, they want our jumpship again,” Sykes assumes.
“Yeah, they’ve been trying for years,” Hicks agrees. “Wonder how they got in. Normally the pulse cannons and pulse shields keep them away.”
“A breach in Sub-system control would theoretically be…regretful,” The Shrine states.
“Do you have internal security?” Hartman asks.
“Nah, never did,” Hicks replies. “Never needed it. One big happy family in here.”
“Bro,” Sykes agrees, nodding his head with a knuckle punch to Hicks.
“We can handle this,” Red states. He quickly shoulders his rifle.
Hartman brings his pistols up and twirls them about in his hands, sending laser beams flashing everywhere.
“Whoa,” Hicks says with surprise.
“You said it bro,” Sykes agrees nodding his head.
“Thanks for your help,” Hartman states. He twirls about and begins to hover toward the door.
“Hey dude, wait,” Hicks calls out. “We’re going with you.”
“Totally!” Sykes replies.
Suddenly the cables and wires attached to the doctor’s backs snap from their couplings and fly back toward the wall behind them. Both doctors begin to march up the steps of the amphitheater.
“I can’t guarantee your safety,” Red says, following behind them.
Sykes appears to turn and look at the huge rifle Red carries. “I don’t know dude. I’m not a violent guy, but that is one fucking big gun. If that’s as close to a guarantee as you got…I’ll take it.”
“I’ll take point again sergeant,” Hartman states. His armatures snap up, his pistols held at the ready. “If we run into something, please hit the deck, doctors.”
*****
Warrior and Blade are squatting on the deck facing each other. Blade has scratched a chessboard into the dust between them. Several tall, specially marked, cargo barrels, which are much larger than people, have been placed onto the improvised chessboard.
“Now, the queen can go in any direction for the length of the board or to where another piece is blocking,” Blade explains, his voice enthusiastic.
Warrior looks down at the board with wide fascinated eyes. “How long have you been playing this game again?” she asks.
“Why do you keep asking me that,” Blade asks with annoyance.
“It gives me perspective into your psyche, Big Guy,” Warrior replies with a wink.
“Warrior, Blade,” Doctor Hartman’s voice interrupts in the dragon’s minds.
“We are here,” Blade replies.
“I’ve got that emergency you wanted,” Hartman replies. “We are headed for Sanctuary, but an armed assault team is trying to get there first.”
“Where did they come from?” Blade asks.
“I don’t have that information, however there is battle currently waging outside the station. I doubt it is a coincidence,” Hartman explains.
“Such things rarely are,” Warrior replies. “Well we are safe in here.”
“I have the suspicion that may not remain the case for long,” Hartman replies. “You two may want to get ready to launch. You may need to buy us some time while we get Sanctuary underway.”
Warrior looks at Blade and grins. She slides her large clawed hand across the chessboard, sending the improvised chess pieces rolling or bouncing away across the deck. “Game over,” she declares with a giggle.
Blade frowns, his large knobby face crinkling.
Chapter Seven – Bang Bang
Blackjack leads his crew down the bright corridor, his guns held high, a big smile on his face, not that anyone could see it through all the hair. Mona, taking up the rear, shuffles her feet and grumbles with each step. In between them the four skull-faced leather clad pirates continue to move forward with caution, rifles shouldered or pistols raised, ready for a fight.
The group rounds a corner and enters a wide alcove. While the corridor continues ahead, two hatchways on either side of the alcove cause Blackjack to suddenly stop. A sign printed above one door declares “Sanctuary,” while the other is labeled “Sub-system Control Alpha.”
Blackjack makes a hand signal.
The skull-faces split; two head for the Sanctuary door, the other two move toward the Sub-system door.
An alarm begins to sound.
“Attention, security breach in progress! All unauthorized personnel please leave the area immediately,” The Shrine declares.
Blackjack laughs. “You know what that means?” he asks.
“What baby?” Mona asks with exhaustion. She plops down on the bright deck surface and lowers her head with exhaustion.
“It means there is nobody here to stop us!” Blackjack says with a laugh. “Get me inside these rooms boys.”
The torch is fired up and the boys begin cutting into the Sanctuary hatchway, while the other two start to fiddle with the electronic locking mechanism next the Sub-system door.
Blackjack stands between his men, raises both his arms and points his pistols down both corridors at the same time.
Mona looks up. “Thought you said nobody was coming,”
“First rule of piracy,” Blackjack grumbles. “Always trust your guts.”
“Well my gut says I’m hungry,” Mona laments sadly.
The subsystem door suddenly hisses and slides open.
“That’s my boys,” Blackjack declares. He moves up to the door. Pointing his pistols forward he steps into the room, skull-faces following. The lights of the room suddenly flash on revealing several banks of computers against the walls. In the center of the room is a flat table with a glass surface. “What’s this? No terminals, how the heck can we control anything?”
Mona slips into the room and walks up to the glass table. She looks at a strange object imbedded in its surface. When she reaches out to touch it the emitter activates and a yellow holoscreen suddenly ignites. A depiction of the great stellated dodecahedron rotates in the center of the screen while data scrolls rapidly on either side of the image.
“Check out this tech,” Blackjack gasps. He holsters his guns while staring at the sparkling yellow translucent screen. “It must be worth a fortune. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“Thank you Mona,” Mona says childishly, her eyes darting to the ceiling with contempt.
Blackjack steps up to the table. “Now how do we…” he places his finger on the holoscreen. It suddenly turns red and begins to blink.
“Breach!” The Shrine shrieks over the speakers. A loud alarm begins to sound. “Initiating emergency protocol omega!”
“That don’t sound good, baby,” Mona declares musically. She leans against the glass table and looks up at the red blinking holoscreen with a bored expression.
“Charging main reactor! Critical mass in ten minutes!” The Shrine declares. “Lowering all defense systems.”
“What the fuck?” Blackjack laments. “What kind of security system is this?”
“Sir?” Thing One chimes frantically in Blackjack’s ear. “Sir!”
“What?” Blackjack demands.
“The Solar Mafia, they’re coming! What do we do?” Thing One demands with fear.
Blackjack grabs his earpiece, rips it off his head and throws it. “We lost the ship,” He declares angrily. We need to take the emergency ship or we’re all dead.”
“Sir,” one of the skull-faces cries out, sticking his head into the room. “We got it.”
“Finally! Some good news!” Blackjack declares. He grabs Mona’s hands and yanks her away from the glass table.
“Hey!” Mona screeches.
Blackjack drags Mona out into the corridor, crosses it and prepares to slip into the newly formed breach in the Sanctuary hatchway.
Several sharp reports erupt. Bullets spark against the bulkhead near Blackjack’s head.
One skull-face is struck in the forehead and flies backwards, blood spraying out the back of his head. The rest raise their guns. Even Mona draws her pistol
from her hip and takes aim towards the shots coming down the corridor.
Hartman takes cover around the corner, just before several return fire bullets strike and flash against the wall where he had been standing.
“You boys hold off…whatever that is, Mona and I will figure this thing out,” Blackjack declares. “We have less than ten minutes.” Blackjack drags Mona through the breach in the hatchway. Finding themselves inside a glass docking tube, the pair race toward the open hatchway at the end. The docking tube is attached to an oval shaped structure on top of a gigantic cube that seems to hover within an even bigger metal cavern. The oval structure at the top of the cube appears to be attached to the flat ceiling of the cavern. Lights begin to flash around the cube as it begins to power up.
“Is that a ship?” Mona asks with disbelief.
“It’s payday my girl,” Blackjack declares happily.
*****
Samurai resembles a shark with engine pods instead of fins. It is flat starboard to port, but long from forward to aft. Sparking pockmarks along its hull, where missiles had recently struck, is a testament to its thick armor. Its aft engines waiver and pulse, an occasional spark indicating much more significant problems inside.
Ten small manta ships and five corvettes thrust forward in a phalanx maneuver toward the TDF patrol ship.
Jason watches the advancing armada from the captain’s nest and shakes his head.
“Captain,” Aria’s alarmed voice declares. “The Star…it’s powering down its defense grid.”
Jason looks up at his panoramic screen. The speed-shuttles are now thrusting towards the huge ancient structure.
“Sir,” Aria replies. “There’s more...a dangerous reactor build up inside The Star, it is off the charts.”
“Where are my guns, commander?” Jason asks.
“Sorry sir,” Aria replies. “We are wading through the damage from the first wave.”
Flashes appear from all the corvettes and mantas as missiles begin streaking toward Samurai.
“Shit, here comes the next wave,” Jason curses. “Return fire now!”
Alarms begin to hoot. On his panorama screen Jason watches his own missiles streak away, passing the enemy ordinance. Railgun rounds dot the blackness of space; streams of glowing metal chucks magnetically flung toward the advancing missiles. A few of the missiles are struck, exploding brilliantly in the dark. However, a few get past the guns. Jason grabs his chair, takes a breath and closes his eyes. The deck pitches and heaves. The lights flicker and suddenly a terrible tearing sound is heard all around him.
